


These Accidents Of Faith

by ATrashbagWrites



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATrashbagWrites/pseuds/ATrashbagWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them knows how it happened.<br/>Still, they let it be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Accidents Of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly my best work...The beginning is really rough. So is the rest of it, actually.  
> Still, I hope you enjoy!...
> 
> Rated T to be super, super safe.

 

* * *

The first time they meet, he laughs. So does she, and nobody knows why.  
She and Tamlen are like that.

From the first moment they lay eyes on each other, when she is five and he is six, everything changes.  
The world seems smaller; safer.  
And every word exchanged becomes a secret meant just for the two of them; the odd ones, the misfits: the shy, withdrawn orphan and the bold, impulsive troublemaker.

"I" becomes "we" then, and never changes back.  
"We" never includes anyone else, either. It is just "me and Tamlen" or "me and Eliitha" and that is good enough for them; and good enough for everybody else, too.

Because they do things nobody else can understand. Sometimes, he bows and smiles and she takes his hand and they dance right in the middle of camp in broad daylight; only, not in the way you'd expect. They turn in dizzy circles and leap across the ground and flap their arms just to make the children laugh (which later earns them a light scolding from Hahren Paival, who's lesson they've interrupted). And the elders of the camp shake their heads at the pair's "ridiculous" behavior, but chuckle to themselves when they think nobody's looking.

Other times, Eliitha and Tamlen go off into the forest (just the two of them, of course) and harass some shems unfortunate enough to be passing through the forest. They tell themselves they are honing their hunting skills, but it is always too much fun to be considered training, and their exploits nearly always end in a kiss or two. (Or three or more).

 _Reckless_ , others say.  
 _You and Tamlen are reckless._  
But they say it with a smile and doting glance at the inseparable pair of elves who are growing so alike, they'd all have trouble telling them apart if Tamlen wasn't tall and blonde, and Eliitha slight and dark-haired.  
They are Dalish and they are supposed to belong to the clan. But in their minds, he belongs to her and she belongs to him and that is the end of it.

And then, one day, Eliitha wakes up and Tamlen is suddenly gone; just like that.  
Her head aches and she can't remember why, but she knows something is wrong simply because she is alone and she is never alone if she or Tamlen can help it.  
And that is when she begins to recall.  
The humans. The ruins.  
The mirror.

Later, people tell her that Tamlen is probably dead.  
But Eliitha doesn't know how to make herself believe it.

* * *

She leaves the village behind and agrees to follow ( _the strange shemlin)_  Duncan.  
She isn't sure how she soldiers on; she simply does.  
Through the Joining, through the Wilds, through all the little battles in between…  
Through Ostagar, where thousands die; where she nearly dies too.  
And Alistair tells her he is relieved but all Eliitha can think is "Why couldn't I be taken, too?"

Time eventually makes her friendly, but somehow, always false.  
And she can't ever stop herself from searching, despite what she knows.  
And soon, her entire world is empty smiles and cold, dead laughter and doing instead of thinking because she can't force herself to sit still for five minutes and  ** _feel_**.  
She opens her eyes each morning, but she remains asleep.  
And she never wakes up.  
Not until she meets him.

* * *

It is the fury that she feels coursing through her that is stronger than anything else. Fury at the fact that he is laughing; laughing and bleeding and striking at his enemies all the while.  
Graceful and precise, but reckless, too.  
Reckless.  
The way that Tamlen was.  
No, the way that Tamlen ** _is_**. ( _Because he's not dead. He can't be. Not yet._ )  
And it's enough to break through the walls she's unknowingly built up and annoy her, just a little.  
"The elf is mine!" Eliitha shouts to any of her companions who will hear her.  
And when said elf sees that what Eliitha wants is a fight just between the two of them, he stops what he's doing; looks at her.  
He gives her a small smile then, and a gracious bow.

For a moment, Eliitha is speechless, struck by memories of dances in broad daylight.  
Then, she is angry.  
Eliitha attacks this stranger before he can even raise his head.

But something is wrong.  
For a notorious Antivan Crow, he is too easily defeated.  
And his eyes are empty, just like his laugh.  
Still, when it is over, he asks for mercy.  
But Eliitha can see that this elf doesn't actually want to be spared. And that's exactly why she spares him anyway.

But as the weeks pass, she regrets it.  
Because Zevran Arainai is treacherous and full of life and difficult to understand, too.  
She watches him flirt with Leliana and Wynne the way Tamlen used to flirt with her and she tells herself that she hates this elf.  
Which is why it is such a surprise to everyone, especially herself, when she finds herself marching across camp one night to Zevran's tent, meaning to pick a fight with him, and somehow blurting the words, 'sleep with me' instead.

Luckily, however, he accepts and she spends the night trying to lose her memories in the lips and hands of another.  
But it doesn't work.  
So instead, she begs Zevran to make it hurt. She spurns his gentle touches and soft kisses and wants instead for nail marks and bruises and pain. And because he has things he needs to forget as well, the assassin obliges.  
So every night, in Zevran Arainai's tent, he takes his empty pleasures, and she takes her punishment.

And she never kisses his lips and never lets him kiss hers, and the pain feels good.  
But when all is said and done and Zevran is sleeping soundly beside her, Eliitha turns away from him, curls up on her side, and blinks at nothing in the dark, wondering how she could possibly feel so lost.

* * *

By day, Eliitha can feel the uneasy glances the other party members exchange between themselves when they think she's not looking. They have noticed the red welts that mar the raw skin on her back and the mottled blue-ish purple that circles her wrists in the perfect shape of someone's hands. But she ignores them and reminds herself that she deserves this.

Because the more it happens, the worse she feels and that's really what she wanted, after all.

And Zevran does as he's told.  
Because she needs him and he needs her.

Zevran does as he's told because if he doesn't, he knows the Warden won't ask him to bed anymore. And how would he dull his aching regret, then?

* * *

But time passes and suddenly, one night, Eliitha finds herself sitting alone in her tent, clutching an amulet to her chest and sobbing because her bluff has been called; and in front of all her companions, too. But nothing ever could have prepared her for ** _that_**  and she hasn't cried so hard since the day they told her Tamlen was gone.

Suddenly, the flap to her tent opens and the assassin walks in and he does nothing but sit beside her and let her cry on his shoulder. He doesn't try to touch her because he knows she'll pull away. And he doesn't try to say anything because he knows it won't help. He knows from experience.  
So he waits and waits until she is all tired out and finally is calm enough to ask him, "Why are you here, Zevran?"  
She is not unhappy at the prospect of having company; just curious.  
Zevran ponders that for a moment, and then, is just about to reply with something along the lines of: "Because I worry for you, Warden."  
But somehow, he doesn't think cheap sentiment will persuade her to trust him.  
"I, ah…was wondering something, if you will indulge me." he finally says instead.  
She sighs, exhausted by the events of the day, but responds.  
"What?"

"That elf we saw today..."  
And Zevran can practically feel Eliitha wither beside him, but he has to know so he continues. "The one who gave you that amulet back in the temple. You said his name was Tamlen, yes?"  
She nods reluctantly.  
"…And…you loved him?"  
"...Loved him?" Eliitha echoes. And she comes ** _that_**  close to saying yes, but then, her face falls.  
"I…don't know...How do you abandon someone, leave them to die, and then let yourself even  _ **think**_  you deserve to say that you loved them?..."

There is a silence then, in which Zevran tries to find the right words to say as Eliitha will not look at him; not even once.

"Warden…You did all you coul-"  
But she shakes her head vehemently.  
"Stop it." Eliitha begs. "Don't try to make me feel better, Zevran. I don't deserve it! If I had done enough for him, if I had just found him, I wouldn't need to use you to-"  
Suddenly, she realizes she has said too much and so Eliitha shuts up and looks away.  
But Zevran pays no mind to the hurtful words.  
"You blame yourself, then…That is why…" he trails off, running his thumb lightly across her wrist where mottled purple bruises show.  
Eliitha Mahariel just pulls her arm into her chest, ashamed at the kind of person she's become, and so Zevran doesn't ask anything else. He silently gets up off the ground to head back to his own tent, but before he leaves, he takes one last look at her.  
And finally, he understands.

* * *

The next time Eliitha invites him to share her bedroll, something is different in the way Zevran looks at her.  
And touches her.  
His lips brush her skin and this time, they are gentle.  
So gentle, she jumps at the alien tenderness she is being shown.  
"W-what are you doing?" she asks.  
He ignores her and continues pressing his lips across each mark on her shoulder.  
"Don't." she whispers, beginning to push him away. Then, more frantically, "Zevran, don't. Stop it! Please!"  
The elf lets up and watches hopelessly as the Warden shrinks back from him and breaks.  
"I have upset many people in my lifetime, Warden, but I must say: this has never been the reason…" Zevran sighs, reaching for his tunic. His tone is unaffected as it always is, but he feels like a fool for thinking he could make a difference.

He is a born assassin, and knows only how to destroy everything he touches.

"Wait." Eliitha suddenly calls after him. "Wait! I'm sorry, Zevran. Don't leave. It's just...I can't...I don't know-..."  
The sight of her sitting there, half-mad with guilt and shame and loneliness, desperately trying to explain her scattered thoughts...It terrifies him. Because just for a moment, he can't help but see, in Eliitha's place, a different elf begging for her life in the same hysterical manner that the Warden secretly begs the Creators, the Maker, the Paragons-  **anyone**  for answers.  
And then the moment passes and Zevran finally understands why his touch has turned to poison.

"Warden, there is...there is something you should know about me."  
Eliitha listens to his story and suddenly, she understands too.

* * *

Things begin to change after that.  
Neither of the elves knows how or why. But all of the sudden, Eliitha can't stand the idea of using Zevran in the horrible way she did before and Zevran can't stand the idea of being nothing more than a distraction.  
But this growing, tentative ( _affection)_  respect is new to them.  
So they limit their interactions to brief small talk and awkward smiles, and they try to ignore the way their hearts race whenever their elbows accidentally brush.

* * *

Everyone is spending a quiet evening in camp when she sees it: movement in the trees, a shadow, the barest hint of a familiar silhouette.  
Her heart stops.  
And then, before she even knows what she's doing, she takes off after the hastily retreating figure as Leliana calls after her in confusion.  
"Tamlen!" she cries.  
Because she's almost sure it's him, but she hopes to the Creators that it's not.  
But the eerie figure stops and turns and limps and staggers out of the dark and into the moonlight.  
And it really ** _is_**  him...

* * *

"…Always…loved you…lethalan."  
"I know, Tamlen. I'll always love you too." she whispers, despite the tears. And then, after all those long months, she finally says it. "I'm sorry I didn't look harder..."  
She pushes the knife in.  
Tamlen lets out a choked gasp and his wretched face contorts in pain first, then relief.  
He falls.  
And finally, it is over.

* * *

Later that night, Eliitha takes a shovel and cuts into the ground again and again in a furious, steady rhythm. Hot tears blur her sight and sweat runs down her brow, but she continues to dig in her mindless state, muttering elvish under her breath.  
Her companions watch helplessly. They know better than to disturb the mourning.

Once, just once, Wynne offers to help with magic, but Eliitha insists on doing it alone and by hand. She refuses to break for supper. She refuses to sleep.  
And the only one who understands why is Zevran.  
Eliitha buries the body at the base of a tree near the edge of camp and she lets Zevran help because both of them know that they need this.

And when it is done, the two elves finally stand back and admire their handiwork. It is quiet, and dark, and a little cold. But the night air is good and Eliitha can finally say with complete honesty that she did everything for Tamlen that she could.

"Thank you, Zevran..." Eliitha says softly and unexpectedly.  
Zevran glances at her in wonder, surprised by the effect her simple words have on him, but he manages a shrug and says, "I did try to kill you, Warden. I suppose this makes us even."  
She laughs at that.

For the first time in a long time, she laughs.  
And it feels _wonderful_.

They stand together in silence until the break of dawn, and somewhere in those hours they take to finally grieve their loved ones, Eliitha and Zevran's hands come together: fingers entangled loosely and a little uncertainly, but palms pressed firmly together.  
Neither of them knows how it happened.  
Still, they let it be.

* * *

He only realizes it when they are in front of the fort gates, about to say good-bye.  
Zevran swallows nervously and paces a few feet away, wondering if Eliitha, who is beautiful despite the burning fortress and rotting corpses around them, will spare him a few moments to say what he may never have the chance to say again.  
She does.

And they remember the next moment in short, measured glimpses.

 _"So, here we part ways..._ "  
Zevran's voice is stable, but he wears a grim smile.  
Eliitha tries to smile back, but she already knows what Zevran wants to ask and what she will have to say in return.

" _You...did not wish me to stand by you in the end_?"  
He hopes his tones passes as 'casual'.  
Zevran both hates and loves how asking a simple question makes him feel so vulnerable.

" _Not this time_."  
She offers no explanation, but she hopes he understands that it's because she...admires him and doesn't want to lose him and just desperately ** _needs_**  him to be safe.  
Evidently, however, he does not.

" _Will I see you again? Or is this truly goodbye_?"  
Anxiety riddles Zevran's face, although he tries to hide it, and the sight of him standing there uncharacteristically afraid, wakes Eliitha to a truth she never expected.

Silence.

Nervous fidgeting.

Then...

" _Whatever happens, Zevran, Iloveyou_."  
And then she startles him by pulling him closer and kissing his warm lips for the very first time.

She leaves him with nothing but this before she turns on her heel and walks away.

And Zevran can't find it in himself to move for the longest time.  
When he finally does, she is gone.

" _Cruel to the end..._ " Zevran murmurs to no one, because he didn't get to say he loved her first.  
But he can still feel the warmth of her lips on his.  
And he wants to smile, but he knows what she'll be facing and he just can't.

* * *

Silk and rich food and music and humans tending to her every need...  
It is not unwelcome.  
But it suffocates her.

"Ah, Grey Warden! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! You absolutely must meet..."  
Arl Eamon takes her by the arm and sweeps her away to meet yet another family of Fereldan nobles despite her polite declination, and soon, Eliitha finds herself trapped anew by the petty conversation skills of a wealthy shemlin. She tries to seem interested in the conversation- really, she does- but Eliitha just can't help it if her eyes stray; from Alistair, blushing at a bawdy joke that Bann Teagan has just finished telling him, to Wynne, to Leliana, to Oghren, and finally, to Sten who is enjoying a cookie and growling at her Mabari in the corner.  
Not one of them feel as ** _confined_**  as she feels.  
She needs trees and sun and leather armor and dirt; the forest.  
She needs freedom, and fresh air to breathe.

Suddenly, from across the room, her eyes catch his; Zevran.  
The elf seems to study her for a moment, then he quirks his brow at the side door and begins to smile.  
For a moment, it crosses Eliitha's mind that it would be irresponsible and hopelessly reckless to sneak out when so many people seem to need her attention.  
But that is exactly why she smiles back anyway.

All at once, the two elves are both rushing as quickly and discretely for the side door as they can, leaving the nobles behind long before they even realize their conversations have been abandoned.

Eliitha and Zevran escape unnoticed, and they let the rest of Fereldan wait to see their hero for just a little longer.  
Because it is all over, but they are still healing.

* * *

 


End file.
